


The Royal Treatment

by biichan



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, POV Second Person, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2010-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biichan/pseuds/biichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ace never makes it to London, but she does visit the queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Royal Treatment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crytears](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=crytears).



> Written for crytears as part of the femslash10 ficathon.

_In space, no one can hear your bike._

No one, that is, outside the tiny atmosphere bubble that surrounds it. An invisible one, of course—there'll be nothing to wreck your view of the generation-ship below. The British generation-ship, if the Union Jack painted on the side is any indication.

(The flag does make you slightly uneasy, but you reassure yourself that the toerags and morons that make up the BP would be too bloody stupid to construct this ship. Still. Flags conspicuously on display doesn't necessarily equal fascism, but in your line of work it's important to be prepared.)

The thing looks like a city of mega-skyscrapers stuck on the back of a steel-forged island. There's a spare beauty to it. You swoop in closer to get a proper look at it.

The towers have names on them: Yorkshire, Essex, Devon, Kent. The second 'E' in Manchester is burnt out. You swing by Manchestr and come in close to the window, the better to spy on the Space Mancunians.

Too close. The front wheel brushes against the window, sends you spinning in the direction of Tyne And Wear. Gordon Bennet!_ Dammit, you've been through too much to end up a bug on the windshield of bloody Space Britain._

You have enough presence of mind to press the buttons on your vortex manipulator to send you on a short hop left—enough to get you on the other side of the glass as inertia smacks you and your bike into a lamp-post.

\--

There was a girl in Liz's bed. A woman, really—about twenty years younger than Liz, if she were to guess—but there was a softness to her features that was very girlish in this way.

Her hair looked soft. Liz reached down to stroke it.

The woman moaned a little in her sleep, shifted position. Liz wondered what she was dreaming about. The woman—and the bike she'd appeared with—was a mystery. The Winders hadn't wanted to release her into Liz's care—they'd probably planned to disappear her before she even came to—but Liz had put her royal foot down.

The woman moved in her sleep again. Her eyelids fluttered open. "Water," she gasped.

There were more than enough glasses to spare. Liz watched patiently as the woman drank, then took the glass back and set it on the floor next to its siblings.

The woman was feeling her own left arm for some reason, then frowing. "Where am I?" she said, squinting her eyes and turning her head to better take in the size of Liz's chambers. "It's well posh."

"You're in my bedroom," Liz said, and then added, "on the Starship UK. I'm Liz X."

The woman nodded. "Ace." She looked around the room again. "I had a bike..."

Liz glanced away. "Damaged beyond repair, I'm afraid. Or, at least beyond our capacity."

Ace made a face. "Wonderful." She bit her lip. "Ah, when you found me, was I wearing..."

"... a black wristband?" Liz reached into the pocket of her cloak. "The Winders wanted to keep it. I overrode them."

Ace blinked. "Winders?"

"It's a long story."

Ace took her wristband. "Don't worry. I have all the time in the world, now."

So Liz told Ace about Starship UK and the Winders and their journey through space and Ace told Liz about her own travels through time _and_ space: early ones with the mysterious alien known only as the Doctor—and it really was _that_ Doctor, the one from the royal family's bedtime stories—and the later ones after she'd struck out on her own with stolen Time Agency technology.

By the time they'd finished their stories, Liz was curled up on the bed next to Ace, her head on the smaller woman's shoulder. Ace had her finger's in Liz's curls.

It was really very easy to turn her head so that she could kiss Ace's cheek. Then Ace turned _her_ head and she was kissing Liz on the mouth with well-practiced artistry.

_Mmm, nice_, thought Liz.

It got nicer.

\--

Rank, as they say, had it privileges. One of which was Liz's bath. Gold taps, deep basin, and never-ending hot water. Her bubble bath supply wasn't too shabby, either.

"Does everyone have numbers in the future?" Ace asked.

"Hmmm?"

"You know. Liz Ten."

Liz laughed. "Ah, no. That's short for Elizabeth the Tenth."

"I'm getting my hair washed by the bloody _queen_?"

"In Our royal bathtub."

"Ace," said Ace.

\--

 

It was Ace's second—or was it third? they were all starting to blur together—day on the starship when Liz caught her staring intently at the collection of half-filled glasses.

"There's something wrong with them," Ace said, frowning. "I don't know what. But I can _tell_ something's wrong with them. They don't fit."

"No," said Liz quietly. "They don't."

Ace kept staring. Liz stayed silent. If Ace figured it out on her own...

And then Ace looked up at Liz. "They're still," she said. "No ripples. Shouldn't the engine...is there even an _engine_ on this crazy ship?"

"No," said Liz. "I bloody well think there isn't."

\--

Ace's scheme to penetrate the lower levels of the ship was a bit mad and involved a grappling hook, massive amounts of wire, and Liz clinging to Ace's back. That last part was actually rather invigorating. Running from the mad Smilers once they'd reached the lower levels wasn't very fun at all, however, but Liz's guns came in very handy. (Ace had offered to use her home-made explosives for them, but Liz didn't want the ship accidentally damaged. Her ship. She was the bloody queen after all.)

The Winders caught up with them shortly after they found the first mystery tentacle.

\--

Liz silently fumed during most of the march to the Tower of London. These were _her_ Winders! Her bloody subjects! They were supposed to obey her! If the Tower had organized some sort of coup...

She felt Ace's hand on her shoulder and looked up into the other woman's eyes. "Liz," said Ace, quietly. "If we don't get out of this, I just want you to know that I've never been much for royalty before, but I was honored to have you as my queen."

Liz opened her mouth to reply to that, but it was too late. They were shoved through a door into the Tower and there was Hawthorne, telling her that this was all _her_ doing, that she'd chained the beast below, and there was even a video of herself confessing the deed, the horrible deed—how could she have done something so very, very wrong?

It was for the sake of Britain, her recording told her. Of course it was.

Two button. Like in the voting booths.

Ace was gone, she realized numbly. Vanished. Fed to the mouth of the beast.

Her hand hovered over ABDICATE.

She made her decision.

\--

_You wait for Liz in her bedroom, even though you know you should be centuries away by now. When she returns, you can see it in her eyes that she doesn't know how you are. It hurts. Almost as much as what you heard in the Tower before making your getaway._

"How did you get in here?" Liz says, her hand reaching into her cloak pocket, probably to draw a gun. Her accent's different, you notice, your heart beating wildly. Not nearly as posh as it had been mere hours before.

Only seconds left.

You lean in, brush your lips against her cheek, then whisper, "It's all there in a glass of water."

Fingers on the buttons of your vortex manipulator and you're gone.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Royal, Flush (The High Stakes Hold-Em Treatment)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/185259) by [Nope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope)




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